


Fate of the Son

by MalthirielGreenleaf



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Anakin Skywalker Doesn't Turn to the Dark Side, Borderline Personality Disorder, Canon Divergence - Battle of Mustafar, Don't forget Mortis, Episode: s03e17 Ghosts of Mortis, F/M, Fix-It, Flashbacks, Gen, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Inspired by Fanfiction, Mortis (Star Wars), Possible BPD, The Force, They live!!, seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-17 18:50:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11857533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalthirielGreenleaf/pseuds/MalthirielGreenleaf
Summary: According to the Jedi, Anakin Skywalker has left the Light Side of the Force behind forever by pledging himself to Darth Sidious. However, the Force seems to see things differently, as do a certain few characters we know and love. This fanfiction will follow Anakin/Vader's journey to the Dark Side and how one simple choice on Mustafar can lead events to turn out entirely differently.A/U where the encounter on Mustafar goes very differently. This fic draws on a wide variety of material, most importantly the films, novelisations, and the Clone Wars TV show. I will be playing round a little with canon, hopefully with good results!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own the characters, Star Wars universe or even really the plot of this fic - hence the designation fanfiction. Anyway, there are many, many fix-its and AUs out there to solve the problem of Anakin turning to the Dark Side; this is my take on it. Anakin/Vader has been my favourite character in the Star Wars universe since I was a toddler, so I set out to create a reality where he and Padmé could in fact live and raise their children together. I am using bits and pieces of the dialogue from both the movies and the official novelisations, if things sound familiar. Please let me know what you think!
> 
> Summary: What would happen if the events on Mustafar went entirely differently? What if the Force stepped in to redirect the Chosen One?

**Chapter One:**

“I loved you too much to _see_ you! To see what you _are_!” Darth Vader grated, drawing deeply on the rage simmering just below the surface and letting the tatters of Anakin Skywalker slide from him like the filthy rags they were. The crystalline, frost-edged clarity of the Dark Side rose to envelop him, erasing the last vestiges of the foolish Jedi Knight and husband, while the dragon within burned with a cold satisfaction. Returning his attention to Amidala, he raised a leather-clad hand, curling it into a fist that brought the Senator up onto her toes, clutching at her throat as she fought for breath. The frozen inferno only intensified as he examined his prey. She would not have another chance to betray him.

“Let her go, Anakin!” His mouth twisted as the Jedi’s demand broke into his thoughts. Keeping his eyes on the woman, he shook his head. “You will not take her from me,” he growled, a detached corner of his mind registering the soft _whisk_ of fabric as Kenobi’s robe fell to the blasted rock of Mustafar and the familiar hum of a saber blade as it snapped into existence. Taking a deep breath and drawing with it all of Amidala’s disbelief, anguish and _fear_ , Vader plunged deeper still into the embrace of his new power, his awareness expanding until he felt he understood what the Son had been trying to tell him all those months ago. This deep in the Dark Side, his body thrummed with the vitality and power that should rightfully have been his years before, but he wanted more; he _needed_ more. Widening his awareness to Kenobi’s own despair and pain, he drew on the Force until every region of his soul was saturated in it – but he did not stop.

 

Reality _snapped._

Thud thud. Thud thud. Breath thundered earsplittingly loudly in his ears; the thudding of his own heart was enough to send waves of red-hot pain arcing through his nervous system. Dimly he heard Kenobi cry Amidala’s name as she slumped to the ground, his attention torn from her moments before she lost consciousness. Vader could feel her fight to draw breath as though they were his own, scorched air whistling through a damaged windpipe that simply could not draw enough; he could feel the panicked flutters of the babies in her womb, the doubled heartbeat that mirrored his own; he was even aware of the moment that her waters broke, wetness cascading down her legs even as she collapsed. None of this mattered. For years, Anakin Skywalker had been tormented by Force visions of his loved ones dying in his dreams; those very dreams had set in place the chain of events that Vader had needed to take control. But those dreams were nothing compared with the visions that plucked Vader from himself as neatly as floodwaters did a leaf.

A welter of confused sounds and sensations enveloped him. He felt the bite of a lightsaber as it sheared through his limbs, the agony as he choked on the scent of his own flesh burning. He screamed as relentless blades bored into his bones, clamping on unwieldy prosthetics with the casual brutality of a bygone age.

  _It seems, in your anger,  you killed her._

The words whispered in his ears, burrowed into all the tender nooks and crannies of Darth Vader’s blackened soul, settled into his bones triumphantly as the Force bore him inexorably onward.

_Master Skywalker, there are too many of them!_

The temple had only been the beginning; followed by his troopers, Vader ruthlessly exterminated every Force sensitive in the Empire. Jedi traitors fell, Padawans were crushed, and even those newly born to their powers were extinguished by the glowing blade of the Sith.

_You were the Chosen One!_

Vader thrashed frantically, determined to escape the crushing weight of the Force, to no avail. He wiped out whole settlements of suspected Rebels. He broke countless minds and threw them aside like garbage. He killed, he threatened, he tortured so many that the faces all blurred together into an endless ocean of blood and destruction.

_“You may fire when ready.” Darth Vader looked on impassively as concentrated beams of light focused on the glowing green planet below, reducing it to no more than a field of asteroids in less time than it took for his suit to complete a breathing cycle. Within his emotionless grip, the white-clad princess sagged in grief and horror as millions of voices cried out in terror – and were silenced._

Still imprisoned in the Force’s inexorable current, he had no time to process the incredible evil he had witnessed. He took at aim at a Rebel pilot only to be hurled into space; he gazed out at the stars through a web of cracked glass as Boba Fett informed him that Luke Skywalker was the Rebel he was looking for; his was the lightsaber that cleaved his son’s hand from his body, his the shock that enveloped him at the discovery of a daughter. He looked through Anakin Skywalker’s dimming eyes as the second Death Star collapsed around him, and felt the moment when his heart ceased to beat. Threaded throughout all the pain and destruction and hatred Darth Vader unleashed upon the galaxy, Sidious’ words repeated endlessly. _…you killed her… you killed her…_

Then, with all the speed of a cracked whip, he hurtled back through the slaughter and carnage at the Temple, the choice that was no choice in Palpatine’s office and before that as Dooku knelt before him. He stood again on Mortis as the Son showed him glimpses into the future and heard the hooting cries of the Sand People turn to terror as he hacked them apart, maddened by his grief.

At last, the dreadful parade of memories halted, leaving him with Schmi in his arms, her bloody hand pressed to his face even as her whole body relaxed in death.

The Force seemed to hesitate, several heartbeats passing as he gazed at his mother’s broken form. He had forgotten how peaceful she seemed, her happiness at seeing her son one last time softening her features into the mother he remembered, not the beaten scrap of humanity that had been tethered in that tent. A terrible, empty grief rose to choke him as he collapsed to his knees in the dust of Mustafar, a grief that spilled itself onto the ground as he vomited up everything that remained in his stomach, his connection with the Force severed by his own shock and disbelief. Flesh and mechanical fingers dug at the unforgiving rock as he struggled to understand what he had seen. _You killed her._

_Padm_ _é._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We now take a step back to bring in our beloved General Kenobi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's Chapter 2, much earlier than I expected! Thank you for continuing to read this, I hope this new chapter is enjoyable! Thank you also to those of you who have left kudos and even made bookmarks - please drop me a review if there's something you think could be changed or improved, if you have an idea for where this could go, or even if you just want to fangirl a bit.

**Chapter 2:**

“We’ve got a battle to win here!” Obi-Wan called to his men, accepting his lightsaber from Cody and nudging Boga forward. He may have vanquished General Grievous, but the droid army remained at large, a mess he was responsible for cleaning up. Determining it would be easier to oversee his men from a higher vantage point, he guided the varactyl up the cliff face, preparing to attack the droids massing at the top, only to have his massive mount writhe and collapse beneath him as a hail of blue streaks fell around them. Obi-Wan’s overstretched brain had no time to process the meaning of this as it made a u-turn from the supressed euphoria of defeating the Separatist to less controlled terror - a terror that did not lessen as the ground rushed towards the Jedi at terminal velocity, his own arms beating frantically against the wind of his own descent. The gaping maw of the earth loomed closer, ready to swallow yet another body.

The deadly storm of blue threads thickened, charring black gouges from the fabric of his uniform and leaving furrows of reddened flesh wherever a stray shot caught him. He had enough presence of mind to angle his body towards the body of water below moments before impact, the shock of contact driving the air from his lungs and stunning him for a heartbeat. _You don’t have time for this, Kenobi_ , he admonished himself, wrapping the Force around himself as he propelled himself towards the dark opening cut into the rock. Emerging wet and dripping, his lightsaber thankfully still in his grasp, Obi-Wan spared a moment to send a small prayer for Boga into the Force. While she was not a sentient being as such, he knew that her agility had been all that saved him from suffering her fate. He had felt her twist herself beneath him split seconds before the deadly rain of blaster fire began, and it grieved him deeply knowing that she had fallen for him, for the master she had accepted scarcely an hour before.

Squaring his shoulders and sucking in mercifully deep breaths of damp air, Obi-Wan forced himself to continue along the tunnel, sending his awareness out through the Force to detect his pursuers. _Those blasters were not fired by droids_ , he mused, before forcing himself to focus on escape. He would have plenty of time to analyse the situation later, he needed to get to a ship before they had enough time to lock down the area. Drawing another deep breath, he immersed himself fully in the Force, following its guidance through the maze of interconnecting tunnels and out into the open once more. Pausing by the tunnel mouth, Obi-Wan carefully scanned the docking bay ahead. The lack of life signatures in the Force convincing him it was safe to proceed, he skulked towards the nearest carrier, slipping inside and throwing it into action immediately.

Shouts from below followed him as he calmly activated all the necessary switches, efficiently plotting the coordinates painstakingly committed to memory before the start of every mission. Easily out-manoeuvring the ships hastily sent in pursuit, he flipped the hyperdrive switch, relaxing into his seat as Utapau faded into the streaks of hyperspace.  Only then did he allow himself to think over everything that happened after he killed the general.

He stroked his beard tiredly, the familiar feeling of well-groomed hair soothing beneath his fingertips. Much as he hated to consider it, those blaster that had come so close to killing him had been fired by clone troopers. _His_ troopers. His heart twisted at the thought of Cody and the 212 th attempting to kill him, of the clones – no, _men_ – he had fought alongside and led for the past three years turning their weapons on their own general. It was unthinkable, his mind shying away from all the implications. With the ship locked on the coordinates he had inputted moments before, he knew he could afford to spend a few hours communing with the Force in an attempt to discover what had happened, so he set the instruments to warn him before exiting hyperspace and closed his eyes.

Meditation had not always been his strong point – in fact, Master Qui-Gon had spent many years patiently coaxing his wayward Padawan to relax enough to reach a useful meditative state – but since taking on Anakin as his own Padawan, it had become a precious means to keep himself grounded while dealing with the stubborn boy, to enable him to erase the troublesome emotions he stirred and teach his pupil with the calmness of the Jedi. However, on this occasion that calmness eluded him, floating just outside his grasp. Taking several more deep, calming breaths, he carefully relaxed each taught muscle, each rigid finger, until his personal awareness had merged into the calm light of the Force. Grateful beyond words that he could finally join with the Force, he cast his awareness beyond the metal bubble of his ship and into the galaxy-wide perspective shared by the other Jedi.

Had anyone been observing the ginger-bearded Jedi Master, they would have been able to see the very moment he made contact with others of his order, his body losing its placid relaxation and instead curling in on itself, every muscle standing rigid beneath the thin covering of his skin, the covering over his knuckles drawn starkly white. His previously noiseless breathing sped and roughened into the panicked gasping of a cornered animal, of a being so deeply grieved beyond words that primal physical responses were all that remained. A careful watcher would have seen the pain, grief and agony etch new age into the planes of his face, the liquid that spilled from overfull tear ducts. A Force sensitive would have felt the wave of disbelief and despair that burst from the cockpit before the man could haul it back. Obi-Wan himself was unaware of all of these responses, the instinctive reactions that broke from his shell of controlled serenity. Alone in his cockpit, Obi-Wan wept, still melded so completely into the Force that he experienced his comrades’ emotions as his own.

_There is no emotion, there is peace._

“Come on!” Ki-Adi-mundi beckoned, raising an arm to his troopers before returning his attention to the battle. Aware in the Force, Obi-Wan tried to warn him, to do _something_ as the clones acknowledged some order and raised their weapons as one, training them on the Cerean Master as he was distracted. Obi-Wan watched as they too sent shot after shot at their general, at last downing him with a successful shot to the stomach and moving in to finish the job. From far off, he could feel himself shaking his head, his own disbelief and shock mixing with Ki-Adi-Mundi’s. Fighting for the shreds of his serenity, Obi-Wan had only time for a deep breath as the Force carried him away, the Jedi Master left sprawled on the war-torn planet.

_There is no ignorance, there is knowledge._

Still firmly in the grip of the Force, he found himself looking down on another planet, this time an exotically coloured jungle of fleshy plants. Another column of troopers moved cautiously behind their general, scanning for signs of potential danger. Obi-Wan now knew that it was not external danger that was the problem, however, his heart twisting as a hologram appeared in the palm of Aayla Secura’s clone leader. Tucking away his com, he signalled to his troopers, gathering around the Jedi. Helpless, Obi-Wan watched as yet another Jedi – another _friend_ – was cut down by those she trusted, falling to Felucia’s fertile soil, her soul draining into the Force. Sickened, he remained frozen in place as her troopers tightened their circle, blasters at point-blank range to ensure she was truly dead. Fine tracks of water spread along his cheeks, dripped off the point of his nose.

_There is no passion, there is serenity._

This time, Obi-Wan recognised the planet immediately. The vine-draped jungles of Kashyyk immediately brought to mind images of a diminutive green Jedi Master, who came into focus moments later. Yoda was crouched between two Wookies, towering above him as he staggered beneath a sudden pain, too distracted to hear the tinny words Obi-Wan strained to catch. “…ute Order 66,” a hooded and robed man commanded, before his hologram flickered and vanished. Impossibly far away, another Obi-Wan’s hands tightened convulsively on themselves, blood welling from the nails dug into his palms. But the tiny Jedi whirled before the troopers could pull the trigger, his lightsaber whipping through a complicated pattern as the two Wookies also threw themselves forward. Three heartbeats later, the troopers lay prone, Yoda himself perched safely on the brown-furred Wookie’s shoulder. Obi-Wan relaxed, relief threatening to jerk him from his meditation, but the Force was not done with him yet.

_There is no chaos, there is harmony._

The silhouette that rose before him was one he would have known anywhere, at any time of day, from any distance. The distinctive four spires, usually outlined darkly against the Coruscant sky, were now wreathed in thick smoke and a pall of incalculable darkness. _No, not Anakin_ , he begged silently, no longer able to take comfort in the serene light of the Force. _I could not bear it._ A small measure of relief surged as Bail Organa took shape before him, seated in a small speeder on the landing pad. He felt a wave of relief, in spite of the presence of the clones, as they simply turned him away peacefully – only for a small figure to land among them in a desperate break for freedom from the temple. Heart breaking further, Obi-Wan stood witness as Zett Jukassa, Jedi Padawan, cut down several troopers only to fall beneath the clones’ deadly marksmanship. The child had never truly stood a chance.

_There is no death…._

The Jedi temple on Coruscant, symbol of learning and justice for the galaxy, burned as thousands of Jedi souls across the galaxy were extinguished.

_…There is the Force._

Hurtling through hyperspace, the dying signatures of his brethren stamped upon his soul, Obi-Wan Kenobi felt the Force dim, a great cloud and taint rushing to fill the void left by the loss of so many light users. Dimly, he heard the soft beeping that preceded his emergence from hyperspace, snapping him from his apathy. He could still feel the training bond that had taken up residence in his mind over a decade earlier, relaxing the iron bands around his heart somewhat. Anakin was still alive, perhaps even still on Coruscant. His former Padawan needed him, and Obi-Wan was not about to fail him.

_There is only the Force._

_I am coming, Anakin._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We return to Mustafar for this chapter, where Obi-Wan has a few tough decisions to make - including how to face Padmé.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recently read KeelieThompson1's series "Stand the Hazard of the Die" here on AO3, and loved the idea of Force binders that removed a user's connection to the Force. So, these cuffs are not my invention. Head on over to have a look at her stories - she's still working on the most recent, and they are part of an extremely well written AU where a 7-year-old Luke is sent back to the Clone Wars with a warning for his father.   
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter and, as always, I'd love for you to drop me a comment about things you liked, didn't like, what I could do better, story suggestions, even fics you think I'd enjoy. Thank you for reading!

**Chapter Three:**

_You will not take her from me!_  
His brother’s – former brother’s – words repeated themselves, over and over, in Obi-Wan Kenobi’s mind, reminding him of how he had failed. Even then, he just wanted to curl up somewhere away from this, somewhere he didn’t have to think about all he had lost, about the deaths he’d been forced to witness over and over through the Force. Most of all, he wanted to deny that Anakin had fallen, that if he fled fast enough and far enough his best friend and brother would be there waiting for him, and they’d argue the way they always had. Maybe he’d even forget what he’d seen on those temple holocrons.

With an effort, Obi-Wan pulled himself back to the present. He knew Padmé was heavily pregnant and yet Anakin- _Vader_ had Force-choked her, dropping her to the ground with the callous disregard of the Sith. He knew she still lived, but her presence in the Force was dangerously low. Worse still, he noticed as he drew closer that her leggings and the bottom edge of her tunic were soaked with liquid that pooled at her waist. Having frantically read through all the pregnancy and childcare manuals he could upon realising Padmé was pregnant (of course with Anakin’s child, did they really think he didn’t know?), he knew that the liquid meant her waters had broken and her labour had begun. He rested a hand briefly on her forehead, noting the heat and dryness of her skin, but also the strong beat of her pulse at her throat. Shooting a wary look at the Sith apprentice, he hoisted her gently into his arms, beckoning over C-3PO with an irritable jerk of the head. Carefully depositing the unconscious senator in the droid’s arms and directing him towards the ship, he returned his attention to Vader.

He turned just in time to see him crumple to the ground, his expression slackening from raw pain and horror to one of peaceful oblivion split seconds before he fell. Obi-Wan held back warily, throwing back his robes to give him ease of movement and igniting his lightsaber in readiness. Seconds dragged by like hours as he watched his former apprentice, alert for any signs that he might come to consciousness or have only been pretending. He didn’t stir.

Knowing that Padmé lay on the ship behind him, only hours away from giving birth to the children of the man in front of him, time was running out for him to come to a decision. He knew what the Council would say – Yoda had sent him to Mustafar with the express order to put an end to Vader’s evil and thus deprive Darth Sidious of his apprentice. Obi-Wan, however, had been able to slip deeper into the Jedi archives before leaving the Temple…

_Moving quickly and furtively, hoping he would have the time to find what he sought, he hastily entered the access code to the vault buried deep amongst the trappings of thousands of years of history, history that was about to be wiped from the face of Coruscant. Running his fingers along the storage boxes until he found the correct one, he yanked it from the shelf, fumbling the movement in his haste to retrieve what was inside: a pair of plainly-wrought steel cuffs, burnished to a gentle glow in the soft lighting of the archives. Slipping the cuffs into his robe, he returned the room to its original state and secured it once more, hoping that the lack of a passcode for this nondescript door in the bowels of the temple would deter future entrance. Hope was a shallow thing, he knew, but in this situation simply his need for the binders was a thin, frail hope that he dared not examine too carefully for fear it would crumble into nothing._

Reaching into his robe once more, he carefully unlocked the binders. This was the delicate part: being able to slip the cuffs onto Vader’s wrists before he was aware of it, and then keeping him immobile long enough to get him secured on the ship. Obi-Wan knew it was a tall order, but he found himself clinging to that same fragile slip of hope from earlier: that somewhere deep inside, Anakin Skywalker remained, fighting to return to the light. He knew the teachings of the Jedi as well as any other acolyte – that once a Jedi had strayed to the Dark Side of the Force, they were forever consumed by it and could never return. It was as though the Jedi died and was replaced by the Sith, with no hope of redemption; however something in the way he had treated Padmé in the moments before he recognised Obi-Wan’s presence gave him pause. He had seemed so close to agreeing to give up his powers and to flee with her, and had even claimed that his only motivation in turning to the Dark Side had been to save her from death. If any part of that had been true, Vader’s grip on Anakin’s soul was much less complete than Obi-Wan had believed. If any of that were true, there was a possibility of saving him.   
He was not about to lose another brother, not when he could do something about it this time.

“You’re wasting time, Kenobi,” he chided himself, drawing in a deep breath that felt almost aflame with heat, and opened himself to the Force. Anakin had drawn on the Force as easily as breathing, so he needed any opening he could to ensure he had the upper hand. Steeling himself, he eased the Force into a gentle but firm grip around Vader and, before he had time to second-guess his plan, snapped the cuffs onto his wrists. The anticipated explosion did not come, and if anything the other man’s body seemed to relax, the tension draining out of him as though a nightmare had come to an end. Knowing he had little time to get Vader to the ship and away before Sideous came looking for the apprentice that had vanished from the Force, he hoisted him over his shoulder and headed back to the ship, cursing the lanky limbs and dense body mass that he had been carting around ever since his apprentice hit puberty. At the last moment, prompted by some stirring in the Force that he couldn’t quite pinpoint, he extended a hand to the lightsaber discarded on the ground behind him, quickly clipping it to the opposite side of his belt from where the unconscious man’s hands dangled.

Settling his burden into one of the ship’s cots, he threw himself into the cockpit, prepping the ship for the jump to hyperspace with the madcap movements of the truly desperate man. Inputting the hyperspace coordinates Artoo sent him, he ignored the voice screaming at him that he had a _Sith and a woman in labour_ bunked in the same room, one of whom had almost killed the other less than a half hour prior. He could only trust to the hope that the shock of losing connection to the Force would keep Vader unconscious long enough for him to get Padmé to a med centre, and then…   
He refused to think about what came after.

Flicking the settings to autopilot and instructing Artoo to keep an eye on the ship, he headed back to the sleeping quarters, trying to ignore the leaden feeling settling into his stomach. He’d avoided forming expectations of what he’d find, but the scene that greeted him left him frozen and speechless in the doorway. Padmé knelt beside Vader’s bunk, her fingers laced through those of his flesh hand while the other smoothed his hair back from his face, like a mother soothing her child’s nightmares. Her jaw was set against the contractions he knew she must be feeling, but she was so intent on the unconscious man that it took Obi-Wan clearing his throat for her to notice him.   
“Obi-Obi Wan!” she exclaimed, hastily lowering her voice with a glance at her husband. The relief and love that spread over her face at the sight of him, unharmed, brought a lump to his throat. He was the reason her husband had turned on her, believing she had betrayed him by conspiring against him with Obi-Wan, he was the reason Anakin had even been able to fall to Sidious’ manipulations. If he had been there when the Sith Lord made his move, he would have been able to do something – but he had been worlds away when his brother needed him the most, and his wife had nearly paid for it with her life.

Almost as though she had read his thoughts, her eyes narrowed and her expression darkened. Detangling her fingers from his and pressing a light kiss to his cheek, she heaved herself to her feet and brushed past Obi-Wan, crooking an imperious finger for him to follow. Simply looking at the way she walked, her back straight and rigid in spite of the weight she carried and every step using taut muscles, he was able to gain a rough estimate of her mood. Padmé Amidala, former queen of Naboo and representative in the Galactic Senate, was not merely angry. She was furious enough to be in a battle rage, but he knew her well enough to expect ice-cold, cutting anger that was much harder to stand against than Anakin’s impassioned fury.

Seating herself in one of the chairs in the tiny council chamber, she frostily motioned for him to seat himself opposite her. Now that he could take the time to look at her, without her usual careful makeup and robes constructed to mask her blossoming frame, the bags under her eyes and nails bitten down to the quick jarringly obvious.   
“Tell me, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” she began, her voice lashing at him like a whip, “just what did you think you were doing, stowing aboard my ship? You know what he’s like, you know him best of anybody!” She bit her lip, eyes suspiciously bright as she smoothed the fabric over her belly.   
“Padmé…” he began, then stopped. He had no real explanation, no way to justify his actions. She was right, he had known exactly what he was risking but had felt he had no choice – reasons that seemed hollow now that he had time to examine what he had done. “I’m sorry, Padmé,” he said quietly, meeting her eyes squarely and trying to project exactly what he was feeling. She sighed, wilting a little now that she no longer had her anger to keep her upright.   
“There’s still good in him, you know,” she said quietly, tracing designs on the tabletop with one finger. “Anakin’s in there somewhere, we just have to bring him back.”  
Obi-Wan swallowed hard. “I think… I know,” he told her firmly, holding onto the words like a lifeline.   
_There’s still good in him._  

**Author's Note:**

> Author again: Thanks for taking the time to read this, it means a lot! This has simply been uploaded as I drafted it, and the plot can really go any direction from here. Do you have thoughts on what I can improve? Ideas for where to go next? Things you want to see as the story progresses? Then please review and/or message me, I'd love to hear from you. After all, I'm not just writing this for myself. ;)
> 
> May the Force be with you.


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